


Hunter's Angel

by DevouredbyFandoms



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Carry On My Wayward Son, Random Song Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-11
Updated: 2015-09-11
Packaged: 2018-04-20 06:13:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4776620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DevouredbyFandoms/pseuds/DevouredbyFandoms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a one shot response to a Song Fic Challenge.<br/>Song: Carry On My Wayward Son</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hunter's Angel

CARRY ON MY FRIEND 

These good fellows don't belong to me, but I promise when I'm done to pick um up, dust um off and with a kiss on the cheek return them safely home.

There is one friend in the life of each of us who seems not a separate person, however dear and beloved, but an expansion, an interpretation, of one’s self, the very meaning of one’s soul. ~Edith Wharton

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

He stood in the kitchen. He hadn't even bothered to turn on the light, at least not this trip. His feet shuffled across the floor in worn house shoes that protected his feet from the cold winter tiles below. Sliding the kettle over to the burner he clicked on the heat and put a new tea bag into the chipped green coffee mug. 

Carry On. 

The words were nearly scratched off from years of use and washing. Still, to this day, they were important words to him reflecting the journey he had taken to get where he was now. 

His eyes turned upward as he let out a sigh. "I know," he whispered into the night. Yes, he knew, but that didn't make things any easier. 

When the kettle whistled, he poured it into the cup and added some honey before turning off the burner and heading back down the hall. The snow was falling outside and despite the heat being on the air was cool causing him to pull his robe around him. It was a thoughtless effort to fend off the chill that was already deep in his aching bones. 

Passing the bunker dining room, then the living room, he stopped at the second door and quietly turned the knob. He didn't want to disturb him if he was still sleeping. The figure was asleep on his back, propped up slightly by a mound of down pillows. The only light in the room was from the cracked door of the bathroom, shining over the bed and across to the dresser. The top was covered in pictures from over the years. Photographs of locations around the world, where hunts had occurred, impromptu vacations had happened, and of the friends and family that had been treasured along the way.  
His sudden interest in photography had driven everyone around him insane. He chuckled slightly at the memory. Somehow though, they had allowed it, endured it, even at times managing to snatch the camera from his hands to get their own shots. Yes, they often were like children, in grown men's clothing, carrying guns. But when you rose above the noise and confusion you could see them for who they really were. What they had grown to be.

Each frame carried a memory that was now imprinted on his mind and soul. Moments in time that would never leave him, that he would protect for them all. In a way, it was just a glimpse beyond the illusion of what they had lived. A path that had never been easy for any of them. Out of them all he was the one that had soared ever higher for a short time. And like so many before him, that pushed the boundaries until the breaking point, he flew too high. The inevitable fall had been brutal and unforgiving. If it hadn't been for those around him, it would have been his undoing, his endverse. 

Years he spent trying to convince himself that he knew all the answers, that he could do it on his own while pushing help to the sidelines. It wasn't until he could see through his own eyes that he was a blind man, fumbling through the dark, yet surrounded by those who refused to let him fall. What did it all mean to the lives of hunters? To those whose own minds told them they were madmen just below the rocky surfaces? 

He gently set the cup down, giving another stir with the spoon. Sitting down on the side of the bed he watched him sleeping, his face moving with the voices in his dreams. It was something he was very used to after so many years of watching this man sleep. Their lives had changed when he fell to humanity when he began masquerading as a man with some kind of reason. Only he knew the truth behind the charade that had become the basis of where he was now, this night.

"Are you watching over me?"

He smiled at the frail voice that looked up at him. "This is my place, Dean."

Dean gently smiled back to him. "I know." He pushed up on his elbows until he was sitting up a bit more.

"I brought you some tea," Cas said, passing the warm cup to him.

"Thanks," Dean said as he took the cup, feeling Cas's hand support his own as he took a drink.

"Easy, it's still hot." Cas helped him drink then put the cup back on the night stand.

Dean leaned back into the piled up pillows as Cas fluffed them up and helped him find comfort again. The slow, pain filled movements forced creases into his brow. "How are you feeling?"

"Stop looking at me that way Cas. I'm fine." Dean's voice was low and husky. He studied the weathered face that so intently watched him. Every year had brought more creases around the deep blue eyes. Despite all they had been through he could still see the wise man that resided inside the fallen angel.  
He didn't know exactly when it had happened when this man had become so important in all their lives. An angel that had ripped him from the bowels of hell and virtually never left their side. It had been a stormy sea of trials and tribulations, of emotional roller coasters and battles of life and death. 

Cas tilted his head a bit, his eyebrow's pressed together. "Dean..."

Dean started to ease the man's mind but instead began coughing. Cas leaned forward, placing his hands on his shoulders and helping him sit up some. It was a routine that they had performed many times in the last few days. When the spell passed, he eased him back into the pillows. His gentleness was not lost on the hardened hunter.

"Thanks," Dean whispered.

Cas stood up when he felt Dean grab his hand. 

"Are you leaving?"

"No Dean. I will stay with you."

A sigh of relief left the weary man. The last few years had been so hard, even harder than he could have imagined. When Sam had died, he had felt like a ship tossed on the ocean with all meaning and purpose gone in his life. Cas had been the tether that held him together. Sometimes, well most of the time he wasn't even sure how he had kept walking and breathing. But Cas was always there, being the strength that he had lost. 

They had started hunting together. At first it had been Cas's idea, a type of therapy for Dean. Something to distract him, keep him busy, feed the anger that frequently boiled to the surface. Over the years, though, things had gradually changed. The winds of fortune had changed course and their hunting days grew less and less active. Dean knew it was a good thing, seeing how the years of physical abuse to his body had left him with painful joints, an aching back, and slowing reflexes. Watching his guardian angel sit down in the rocking chair beside the bed he could see the same signs of aging in Castiel. 

Cas scooted the chair close to the bed, his knees right at the mattress so he could stay close to his hunter. 

Dean's worry was washed away by a warm sense of contentment. He had grown accustomed to his Angel being close, even if the powers of Heaven had left him years before. Beyond the tired ocean blue eyes, his hair was still tousled and sticking up in various places, though now it was gray and thinning on top. He shared the same wrinkles and creases of age though he was sure Cas wore them with more dignity.

"You shouldn't think such things," Cas said shaking his head.

Dean almost chuckled. "Maybe someday you'll tell me how you are still in my head when your connections to upstairs left you high and dry."

"I don't need those connections anymore Dean. My bond with you is strong. You might say I can read your expressions like a book."

"Yea?" Dean coughed a bit, taking a moment to finish his sentence. "And what am I thinking about now Mr. Smarty-pants?"

Cas paused, then smiled. "You're remembering the day I revealed myself to you."

Dean's smile grew wide. "Hell of a day that was. I was sure Bobby and I were marked for dead when you burst through those doors."

Cas leaned in closer to his hunter, his voice was soft and caring. "When I touched your soul I knew then that I would do anything or give anything to keep you safe."

His smile softened, green eyes glistening. "And you always did Cas, you always did." His shaking hand patted Cas's. 

"Not always Dean. I made a lot of mistakes once I came to Earth."

Dean could hear the pain in his friend's voice. "We all did Cas." His voice strained with the need to make him understand. "Besides, we've been over this before, many times. Once Sam was gone," his voice faltered.

Cas reached out and rested his hand on Dean's arm. 

Dean continued. "I knew I couldn't keep going that way. I made him a promise."

"Dean, you kept your promise to Sam."

He began coughing again. "I know, you're the reason I did."

Cas closed his eyes as the memories of Sam's death flooded over him along with the pain that Dean had suffered through.

"Hey," Dean patted his hand. "Look at me."

Cas met the soulful green eyes. 

"You are the reason I'm here, that I made it this far. I mean who would have guessed it? Me, a grumpy old fart of a man, with gray hair and all."

"I knew." Cas's voice was a whisper as his hand tightened its grip.

Dean's eyes softened. "Yea, I'm sure you did."

He leaned back into the pillows again, his eyes closed as he struggled to catch his breath. Cas leaned in closer to him, coming nearly face to face with his friend. He could read the weariness that was etched in those creases of time. 

"It's time to rest Dean."

Dean nodded, his lids grew heavy.

"There will be peace now. Your time is done my friend."

His breaths grew more shallow.

"You will always remember," Cas's voice was barely a whisper now. "Your life's no longer empty."

His eyes closed. "I don't want... to leave you alone here... Cas."

"Heaven waits for you Dean," Cas's eyes sparkled with brimming tears. "It's time to rest."

"Cas..."

The corner of his mouth turned up. "I'm sorry I kept a secret from you, Dean."

Dean's eyes opened, the unspoken question sent to Cas. His breaths were less frequent now. His Angel stared deep into his eyes with a reassurance that allayed any fears he might have.

"I stayed here with you, aged with you, but I never really left Heaven behind. Heaven waits for you now Dean, your place is ready. Lay your weary head to rest my friend and know you will never be alone where you are going. I will be there when you are done."

Dean's eyes filled with tears as he felt Cas's hand slip into his. A light filled the Angel's eyes, a light so beautiful he couldn't look away. A light that filled him with peace. 

It told him to cry no more.

Carry on.


End file.
